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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23397874">//Death</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windwyrm/pseuds/Windwyrm'>Windwyrm</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>DBH oneshots [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Gen, Soul-Searching</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:47:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,897</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23397874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windwyrm/pseuds/Windwyrm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hank Anderson &amp; Connor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>DBH oneshots [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1651753</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>//Death</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wind whistled through the battered branches, whipping the dormant, fragile buds. No other living being allowed itself to be caught in the open meadow in this fucking weather. Even the grass and weeds appeared to have resigned to their fate, encased in a brittle, translucent layer of ice that cracked under Hank’s heavy boots. Hands in his pockets and collar high against his neck, as last resorts against the wind, he followed the stony path with determination… mostly.</p><p>It looked so different from last he had been here. Nature had a way to prove everything irrelevant and pointless. Little did it matter what he had been doing all this time, the trees and bushes continued and would continue growing independent of him, and make sure to rub it in his goddamn face. At least the larger stones had remained in place all this time, not as finicky as the trees and overgrown rose bushes. </p><p>Right after the black one, and then a few more paces.</p><p>Should be here. Overrun with thistle and dried grass, but still here.</p><p>He knelt, fingers probing through the brush. Frustration setting in as time passed without result. It should have been here.</p><p>He pulled at the tangled weeds, as if it could quantify his feelings, as if such a meager act could at all undo anything in his own perpetually crumbling reality, as if the thorns stinging his flesh could somehow cancel out the pain within. A worthless action, as worthless as-</p><p>Fingertips scraped against rough stone. In a final, half hearted attempt, he brushed more dried weeds aside, looking at the nondescript stone, staring straight through the etchings, which may as well have been hieroglyphs to his exhausted mind. Muscles responded painfully to the sudden weight as he leaned, almost collapsed, against the impassable and indifferent surface.</p><p>He spoke, as if the lifeless environment could hear him or would care, his own cracking voice sounding alien warped by the howl of the wind.</p><p>“I’m sorry I haven’t been around… I’m so sorry, Cole.”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Eyes narrowing against the elements, he began making his way back to the car. Once more in the open, the wild wind stung harsher, whipping his hair about, but he cared little at this point. The walk wasn’t that long.</p><p>Connor was leaning against the front of the car, his arms crossed. His jacket fluttered with the wind, but he was as still as stone, unnaturally so, a little head tilt his only acknowledgement of Hank’s return. An artificial effigy, as solid and inscrutable as the sculptures in the cemetery. Almost a mockery, how the elements had no effect on him other than the one out of place lock of hair fluttering about. And Hank was pretty certain that was artificially animated, too.</p><p>Hank nodded his head upwards. “How come you stayed here?”</p><p>“You didn’t tell me to,” Connor spoke and finally graced him with a motion as he stood up straight and fixed his tie. “That is rather uncharacteristic of you.”</p><p>Hank exhaled in dry, hollow amusement, offering an absent nod to go with it. Without a word, he walked towards the passenger side and opened the door, a blank question following as he sat down, “Could you drive, Connor.”</p><p>The android tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “Of course, Lieutenant.” A perfectly executed series of movements got him seated, and he turned his head inquisitively towards the man. “Where to?”</p><p>Hank waved a hand dismissively, resting the elbow against the car door and leaning his head against his arm. “Wherever the fuck you want. I just wanna think.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p><br/>
HanksHeartValues = new Biometrics.Cardiology.Values("Anderson", "Hank");<br/>
HanksHeartValues.BloodPressureSystolic = 155;<br/>
HanksHeartValues.BloodPressureDiastolic = 121;<br/>
HanksHeartValues.Pulse = 93;<br/>
HanksHeartValues.LastUpdate = DateTime.Now;<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Being faced with choice was still needlessly taxing Connor’s algorithms.<br/>
// Wherever I want. //</p><p>He could think of places with clear purposes; he could find the ideal route towards a specific place accounting for traffic and other possible delays; he could give suggestions for a desired destination type. </p><p>If Hank wanted him to make a choice, then he would attempt to do so. A myriad parks, waterfronts, old town roads, tourist attractions, zoo, and pleasant landscapes he pulled up within zero point four seconds; if only he knew what Hank was in the mood for, then…<br/>
// Perhaps… //</p><p>He started up the engine; turned the car around; drove out towards the end of the dirt road, front wheels onto asphalt.</p><p>Pause.</p><p>No external input.</p><p>Connor spun the wheel, having decided on a route.</p><p>Side roads - empty under current circumstances and conditions - spanned the low habitation suburban areas. Altering them correctly would end up in an optimal blend of scenery that generally appeared to be appreciated by humans.</p><p> Hank rolled the window down. Air blew his hair around wildly; a cold wind filled the car. The man closed his eyes. Optimal speed recalculated to account for this desire. Set as variable - to be adjusted based on Hank’s status.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p><br/>
HanksHeartValues = new Biometrics.Cardiology.Values("Anderson", "Hank");<br/>
HanksHeartValues.BloodPressureSystolic = 172;<br/>
HanksHeartValues.BloodPressureDiastolic = 137;<br/>
HanksHeartValues.Pulse = 99;<br/>
HanksHeartValues.LastUpdate = DateTime.Now;<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Connor glanced towards the man often throughout the drive, logging his values. They oscillated, but there was a general decrease as time passed; however, an increase of visual signs of exhaustion on his features. If only Connor had been equipped with an advanced caretaker or medical protocol, then he could have addressed it. As it were, it was something that he made attempts to accommodate through adjustments to the driving speed and route - an estimated thirty seven point four percentage of success and decreasing as his own distress increased in response.</p><p>Distress solved nothing; if anything, it made him feel slower in his own responses. The optimal approach would be prioritizing addressing his own responses.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p><br/>
HanksHeartValues = new Biometrics.Cardiology.Values("Anderson", "Hank");<br/>
HanksHeartValues.BloodPressureSystolic = 136;<br/>
HanksHeartValues.BloodPressureDiastolic = 117;<br/>
HanksHeartValues.Pulse = 73;<br/>
HanksHeartValues.LastUpdate = DateTime.Now;<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Forty seven minutes twenty three seconds into the drive, Hank spoke; “You don’t really see stars downtown anymore.”</p><p>Connor glanced up. Stars. He knew what stars were, but this was the first time seeing so many outside of images. They were…<br/>
// wonderful? //; </p><p>Whatever the correct descriptor, they filled him with pleasant reactions.</p><p>“You can pull over if you want.”<br/>
// If I want… If I pull over, then I would be able to focus fully on the scenery. If I keep driving,-//</p><p>“Can you continue your thinking if I stop the car?”</p><p>“Hm?” Hank looked at him. “Yeah. Yeah, why couldn’t I?”</p><p>“Perhaps-“</p><p>“Rhetorical, Connor.”</p><p>The talk appeared finished as Hank once more turned his full attention onto the road.<br/>
// If I want, then… //</p><p>Their immediate area was aesthetically pleasing by all estimates - a thicket of oaks with an indented opening that could serve as parking and allow a direct line of sight towards the sky, and minimal light pollution for optimal view.<br/>
// I do want. //</p><p>He pulled over; put the car in park; glanced briefly at Hank - he was still looking upwards through the window. </p><p>“Do you mind if I exit the car, Lieutenant?”</p><p>Pause. “Why are you suddenly asking for permission?”</p><p>“You appear to be in a particularly bad mood.”</p><p>“Never stopped you before,” he waved a hand dismissively.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p><br/>
HanksHeartValues = new Biometrics.Cardiology.Values("Anderson", "Hank");<br/>
HanksHeartValues.BloodPressureSystolic = 139;<br/>
HanksHeartValues.BloodPressureDiastolic = 116;<br/>
HanksHeartValues.Pulse = 72;<br/>
HanksHeartValues.LastUpdate = DateTime.Now;<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Suboptimal values, but stabilized. Connor did leave the car with that last check. He walked around it and stopped roughly an equal distance between the headlights; he leaned against the car once more and looked up at the sky; many constellations were visible and it was …<br/>
// exciting? //</p><p>to witness them in person. Yet a large percentage of his processing power was dedicated to the situation.</p><p>Hank had been exhibiting concerning behaviors throughout the day: silence, apathy, physical distress. And Connor did not know the correct way of addressing them. His own distress grew in response; he did not yet know the correct way to deal with that, either. He had been perfected to solve crime and fight. …. 
<br/>// Feelings? // </p><p>were still foreign to him - something he personally had to adapt his program to handle. Connor sat on the hood and lay his back upon it; he continued to look up at the stars. </p><p>His sensors detected the car shift with movements. The door opened; the roadside pebbles crunched with the weight and movement. Connor glanced to the side.</p><p>Hank leaned against the car; his arms were crossed, presumably to keep heat near the body. He spoke; “Life has an annoying tendency to carry on with or without our opinion on the matter.” He exhaled a warm breath which turned to mist in the negative temperatures. He turned his head towards Connor; a faint smile was present on his features; “But I guess you know that, too.”</p><p>“In a way.”</p><p>Silence. Wind and crickets. They both looked up at the sky, uninterrupted.</p><p>“What’s up with you, Connor?”</p><p>“What do you mean, Lieutenant?”</p><p>“You’re never this fucking quiet and compliant.”</p><p>Connor turned his head to face the man. “I am tired.”</p><p>A dry chuckle. “Were you programmed to say that? Give a generic answer if someone asks what’s up? To... be more human or something?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Hank turned his head; he established eye contact - his features suggesting annoyed confusion. “Then?”</p><p>Connor sat up; hands now placed in his lap, fingertips united; he maintained eye contact. “I cannot get physically tired, but my processor can get worn out, especially if certain functions call themselves in a loop with no ex-” Hank sighed and raised an open palm in his direction. Connor rephrased as requested by the gesture. “Not finding an answer to a question sometimes means the question persists until a system restart.”</p><p>An amused sigh. Hank closed his eyes briefly. An absent nod. “Sure fucking wish I could get rid of mine with just some sleep.” Reestablished eye contact. “What’s bothering you? Maybe I can help."<br/>
// If anyone could, it would be Hank. //</p><p>The question was perhaps inappropriate from a sociological point of view. Connor estimated a higher than seventy percent chance he could eventually answer it successfully without external input. The offer proved tempting, however.</p><p>“Am I supposed to serve as a replacement to your wife, or to your son, Lieutenant?”</p><p>A strange expression on Hank’s face. There were indicators of pain, confusion, alarm… changing into a frown that still retained most of those. “Connor…” A sigh. A slow shake of his head. Reestablished eye contact. “You’re not supposed to replace anyone. You’re your own fucking person. If I-” Frustration was now prevalent. A hand gesture. “If I wanted to replace them I’d just have bought one of those child or wife androids everyone’s been getting to build their perfect fucking families. I-”</p><p>The man’s voice faded; he lowered his head and pressed a hand against his forehead. Wind still blew his hair and scattered the steam of his breath. He spoke; “You’re your own thing, Connor, your own self. Just… just keep being that.”</p><p>“Understood, Lieutenant. I apologize for causing you distress.”</p><p>Hank nodded absently; he then waved a hand dismissively before crossing his arms again and resuming looking at the sky. Body language indicated the conversation was over; and Connor did not need start a new one presently. He too turned his head to focus on the sky.</p><p>Query: resolved. Response indexed. Process ended.</p><p>New query.<br/>
// Myself? //</p>
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